


The Very Real Hurricane (Not Storm) of 1987

by Sir_Bedevere



Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Gen, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Storms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:21:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25339030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sir_Bedevere/pseuds/Sir_Bedevere
Summary: “Storm. Big one is coming,” Robin said, his forehead pressed to the glass. “Can smell it.”“Well, you’re right about that,” Pat nodded. “I just heard it on the radio.”“Huh. Me no like storms. Noisy.”It's definitely a hurricane and it's really bad, no matter what Humphrey says.
Comments: 20
Kudos: 111





	The Very Real Hurricane (Not Storm) of 1987

**Author's Note:**

> This came entirely out of that bit in one of the episodes where Pat was like 'IT WAS A HURRICANE, ALISON!' 
> 
> I felt like there was some history there, ripe for exploring. :P

The house had been quiet for a few days, with just the caretaker pottering around. Pat didn’t like it much when there wasn’t anything on. Things all got a bit much when the ghosts were left to themselves. At least when the conferences were running, or the scouts were in the grounds, it gave them all something to complain about that wasn’t each other. 

Still, Lady Heather would be back soon from wherever it was she disappeared to for months at a time and the caretaker liked to blast the radio when he was by himself. Which is how Pat first heard about the hurricane. 

The caretaker was in the kitchen, radio turned up loud, and Pat was sat outside, just listening. The music was a bit modern for the others, so he usually got to do this by himself. He hadn’t been dead so long that they’d stopped playing the stuff that he knew, although he supposed he’d have to get used to the new songs as well. Eventually. 

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, nodding along to some Queen, when the news bulletin chimed in. 

“Breaking-”

“Bloody weather,” the caretaker mumbled, and turned the radio down. Pat leaned in to listen. 

“Weather warning for southern England, with wind speeds expected to reach up to 120 miles per hour. The Met Office is advising -”

“Bollocks,” the caretaker said, and the radio clicked off. He made his way out of the kitchen, torch in hand for his rounds. Pat sighed. He’d been really enjoying that song. 

Ah well. Didn’t do to grumble.

Instead he wandered upstairs and found Robin in the drawing room, staring out of the window. Night was coming in fast, and the trees did seem to be moving quite a lot outside. 

“Alright, mate?” Pat asked. 

“Storm. Big one is coming,” Robin said, his forehead pressed to the glass. “Can smell it.”

“Well, you’re right about that,” Pat nodded, and Robin glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “I just heard it on the radio.”

“Huh. Me no like storms. Noisy.”

“Yes, I suppose you don’t. We’re safe in here though, yeah?”

Robin grunted.

Daley had never liked thunder and lightning either. Somehow, Pat didn’t think that - even if they could build a fort - Robin would enjoy being distracted like that. Still…

“Do you - we could camp out in the library. If you want. Less windows.”

Robin didn’t answer, and Pat eventually left him to it. He was a grown up, after all. But, just in case, Pat did go up to the library. And just after eleven, Robin appeared in the doorway. Pat nodded at the seat next to him and that was that. He wasn’t very good at chess, but he knew enough to keep Robin distracted. And he was glad that he did. 

Pat had never heard wind like it. It howled around the house, sneaked in every crack, in through every broken window till it felt like they were shaking. Robin flinched every time that a roof tile smashed as it hit the ground. Then in the middle of the night, the Captain appeared. 

“Ah, here you are. Very good,” he said, his stick clutched tight in his hand. Too tightly. “I was performing a headcount and neither of you were in your quarters.”

“Sorry, Captain,” Pat said, then eyed Robin. “We’re not fans of the noise, either of us. Thought we’d distract ourselves in here.”

“Yes, yes,” the Captain nodded, then jumped as another tile hit the driveway below. Well, he was a soldier. Pat felt a bit guilty that he hadn’t thought to check on him. 

“Do you want to join us? I’m sure Robin is getting tired of beating me.”

For a second, the Captain seemed as though he might take him on it, but then he tucked his stick under his arm and stood to attention. 

“No, thank you. I will be patrolling.”

Robin gazed thoughtfully after him as he marched out of the room, then shook his head.

“He not patrolling. He pacing.”

“I think you’re right there, mate.”

Then, soon after the Captain left, there was an almighty crack. Robin leapt up and went to the window, but even his keen eyes couldn’t see what had made the noise. 

Pat had a horrible feeling though. And it turned out he was right.

The tree. His tree. Well, not his. Fanny would kill him if he said it was. But the tree was down. The one that Carol and Daley and Morris came to visit. 

At first light, he and Robin went out to have a look. 

The tree had completely snapped in half, and the leaves and branches were blown all over the grass. Even hitting it with a bus had hardly touched it. How strong had the wind been?

“Tree very old. Been here a long time,” Robin said.

“Yeah.” Pat nodded, and started to walk slowly around it. He felt a bit - well - sad. Very sad, actually. The tree hadn’t been the thing to kill him - that was definitely the arrow - but it was the last thing he saw before he died. The night before the accident, he and the boys had been sitting underneath it, roasting marshmallows and telling spooky stories. An owl had landed up in the branches, and the kids had been so excited about it. And now it was gone. 

Dead.

“Patrick?”

The Captain’s voice shook him out of his head, and Pat turned to see most of the others had come out to have a look. Fanny was nowhere to be seen, but she was always in a bad mood when Lady Heather was away. 

“Ah, that’s a shame,” Humphrey said, from where he was tucked under Kitty’s arm. “That tree was older than me.”

“A grand old dame,” Thomas sighed. “How often I sat beneath her steady bows, composing my verse.”

“We had a swing here!” Kitty smiled.

“I remembers watching you at play,” Mary replied.

“Oh, do you? How lovely!”

Pat was only half listening to their chatter. It was silly, to be upset over a tree. How many of them had Robin seen come and go over the years he’d been here? And it wasn’t even special for Pat himself, not if Kitty had played here and Thomas had composed. It wasn’t _his_. 

“T’was a mighty wind to bring it down,” Mary said.

“Not as bad as the big one though,” Humphrey said, and Robin grunted.

“Big one was scary.”

Pat turned to look at the three of them, all nodding in agreement. He caught the Captain watching him as he said, “You mean what happened last night wasn’t the big one? I’ve never heard anything like it. Look what it did.”

“Oh no,” Humphrey said, and raised his eyebrows. He seemed to do that instead of shrugging. 

“I don’t recall the year. Mary was here. Don’t think Kitty was. Not even born yet.”

“No Kitty,” Robin confirmed.

“We’s thought the house would blows down,” Mary said. 

“Noisy. Windows smashy. Trees fall down all over.”

“A lot of people died,” Humphrey said. “I remember the lord talking about it. Thousands of them. Sailors. And there were floods. Now _that’s_ a bad storm.”

Kitty and Thomas were listening closely, impressed. Humphrey didn’t often tell stories, and Pat couldn’t blame them for being interested. But something about this one was really getting under his skin.

“With all due respect, Humphrey, we don’t know if the storm last night killed people, or caused lots of damage. It could have been just as bad. Look at the state of the roof here!”

Everyone turned to look at Pat, and he dropped his eyes to the ground. What had he gone and done that for, snapping for no reason? He opened his mouth to apologise, but the Captain cut him off.

“Alright, everyone. Nothing we can do here. Chop, chop.”

He herded the others back towards the house, and for once they didn’t argue. Probably too surprised at Pat’s tantrum to answer back, because they went off without a second glance. Except for Robin, who peered at Pat like he was going to say something, then changed his mind. 

“Patrick, would you care to explain what Humphrey did to deserve that?”

Facing the Captain always took Pat back to school, standing in front of the headmaster.

“He didn’t. I don’t know what came over me. It’s only a tree. I shouldn’t be this upset.”

Was his voice wobbling a bit? It always had at school too. He’d always tried so hard to be good.

“Your family will still come, you know. The tree is not the thing they come to visit.”

Sometimes the Captain could be so spot on that Pat wondered if he was only pretending to be insensitive the rest of the time. He looked up to find the Captain gazing off into the distance.

“How did you-”

“I am not blind, Patrick. You died, right here. They come to visit you, right here. The others have been dead for a long time. They forget.”

Pat had never asked the Captain exactly when he had died, or even how. It didn’t seem like his business, but it was obvious the Captain had been the youngest ghost until Pat came along. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask, to see if anyone had ever come to visit the place where the Captain had died, but it was clear what the answer would be. Somehow, Pat just knew. 

Instead he said, “I’ll go and say sorry to Humphrey.”

“Good man. It takes a brave soul to admit when he is wrong.”

“I still think it was a very bad storm though. Maybe even a hurricane.”

“You’re probably right. Don’t tell them I said that though. Wouldn’t do to take sides.”

**Author's Note:**

> Humphrey is talking about The Great Storm of 1703, which was much more destructive and deadly than the one in 1987. He's right about that. 
> 
> Anyway, I don't know why these light-hearted scenarios I keep daydreaming turn into mild angst but again, I'd like to blame the state of the world right now for that.


End file.
